


Leviathan

by WeeSweetieMice



Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: Feelings, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, New Relationship, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-07 05:00:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3162167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeeSweetieMice/pseuds/WeeSweetieMice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That's how it gets you: thinking. Or logic, reason, talking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leviathan

 

  
**Malcolm**

I don't know what fucking time it is. Three a.m., maybe. Perhaps four. I try not to check the time whenever I wake in the night but I usually end up grabbing my phone so I see it anyway. Can't do that tonight though. Not with this arm on my thigh and this body behind me, pressed to my back.

It was inevitable, in the same way you can't stop the days creeping on, or halt the fucking decay. We'd been moving towards it - drunkenly, clumsily - but I was still surprised when it happened because there were reasons - _so_ many solid fucking reasons - why it was so very, very unwise.

And still it happened and I remember wanting it to. That first time - too much fucking whisky and too late a night. It's a blur for the most part but I remember the parts that matter: his mouth on my stomach, moving lower with my encouragement. Me gripping him tightly. Torturous disbelief: "we can't fucking do this, you can't be inside me". Then sleep. A few hours where it it wasn't happening.

So why, if we both knew it was so fucking unwise, did we continue it the next morning? Reaching for each other, fingers stroking skin, hearing his breath in my ear. He drives me fucking wild.

Last night we worked late. Those pricks from DoSAC couldn't run a fucking bath so there we were, picking up the pieces and the body parts. He pulled his usual Jekyll and Hyde bollocks on the blonde one. Worked though - she was on the phones like a fly on shit. I watched him with pride. And, yeah, okay, I wanted him again. He wasn't paying me any attention though; he was too busy threatening to "saw that useless wooden cunt Cullen in half and count the rings to see if he's as ancient as he behaves", closely followed by an instruction to "make like the fucking tree that you are and fuck off".

And off they fucked. The door shut behind the last of them and there he was, pulling me towards him into his arms and saying "I've wanted to do this all night". I let him, for all of three seconds, before hissing "not here" but not quite stepping back as quick as I should have.

We ended up here, in my house, in my bed. Tried to pretend to the driver that we were pulling an all-nighter, shuffling papers in the back seat. But then through the door and straight upstairs and him beautifully stark bollock naked in my bed. God, I wanted him. Slid my body down against him and lowered my mouth and took him into it. I already know what he likes. It's only taken a month and I can already make him moan my name.

 

* * *

  
**Jamie**

I know he's awake. That's why I woke. Daft cunt won't move though. I bet he wants to get up but he's lying there not wanting to disturb me. I always knew he could be a softy, not that he'd let anyone know it - but there he is, lying still for me.

I can't get back to sleep now either because sleep means I'm not making the most of my time with him. I see his shape and it's an outline of skin and bones. Doesn't feel like that though. There's a smooth path down his back and across his hip. My own body's touching it now.

I am fucking addicted to him. And I've seen the way he looks at me. Saw it even before that night we got completely fucking wrecked. I wouldn't have done anything if I didn't know how he'd react. I made a move and that clever, beautiful bastard was hungry for it. I thought we'd fuck it out of our system. I'm not saying we're fucking soulmates or anything but just show me anyone else he's himself with? I _know_ him.

I'll move in a minute and turn him around to me, and I know the look I'll get. His eyes are like the eyelids of morning. The Book of Job, that one. There's bits of the Old Testament stick with you. My own fucking Leviathan ready to tear up the day.

Last night, with my hands on his hips, pulling him down onto me, I heard him. He gasped my name like some kind of lovesick girl. But I don't have a problem with that. Maybe I _like_ that. And if anyone objects, well fuck them. Fuck them, fuck the horse they rode in on, and fuck a third thing I've yet to decide on. We're doing this. He's _mine_.

  


**Author's Note:**

> [Leviathan](https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Job+41&version=KJV)  
>  [Disclaimer: religion is bollix but it does do a very nice line in literature.]


End file.
